Free Pent-Up Passion by Jenn Roseton Page A

her
embarrassment, Jemma grabbed her dictation pad and pencil and walked
into his office, well aware that unfortunately, it wasn‘t going
to be the “dictation“ scenario of last night’s
fantasy.
    Adam Sinclair sat
behind his uncluttered mahogany desk, his large, well-shaped hand
clasping a gold pen. Jemma wondered how those hands would feel
caressing her bare skin and hastily suppressed her shiver of desire.
She had to stop thinking about how much she wanted her boss or she
wouldn't be able to even look at him! He wore one of the
outfits that Jemma like best - a gray designer suit, white shirt and
pale blue silk tie.
    She sat in one of the
comfortable and softly upholstered chairs opposite his desk and
waited for him to begin, telling herself to concentrate, to not even
think about nervously licking her lips and for
heaven's sake not to squirm with the moist flush that his sizzling
magnetism drew from her private place.
    His
lips curved in that crooked smile that never failed to make her think
of pirates. And getting marooned on a tiny, tropical island with a
VERY naked Adam Sinclair.
    Jemma could hear the
ticking of the clock on the wood paneled wall and started to wonder
if he actually was a mind
reader. T hen
he cleared his throat and she dropped her gaze to her dictation pad. “ I would like you to take a memo.
To-- ” he paused, and Jemma looked up
expectantly. “ Miss Jemma Jones,
secretary to Mr. Adam Sinclair of Sinclair Consulting. ”
    Jemma ’ s
pencil stopped before it barely touched the paper. What? He was
dictating a memo to her? She could feel heat on her cheeks and hoped
he didn ’ t notice.
    After a slight
hesitation, he continued. “ Miss
Jones, it has come to my attention that you are due for a lunch
break. Would you care to have lunch with me today? ”
    Jemma stopped moving the
pencil across the pad. Mr. Sexy Sinclair was asking her to lunch?
Her heart started racing. Calm down, she told herself. It must be a
business lunch. Maybe he wants to
give you a performance review.
    She slowly raised her
head and looked at him. He gazed steadily back at her, his eyes
smoky with desire. She tried to sound casual as she replied, “ Yes,
sir, ” but wasn ’ t
sure if she succeeded.
    “ Good. ” His face lit up with a wolfish grin. His eyes lingered on hers
until he added, "I thought we could go to the Italian place on
State Street. Do you know it? ”
    “ I ’ ve
been there once or twice, ” she
replied, still trying to process what was happening. The boss she
had drooled over for eighteen months wanted to have lunch with her!
She was glad she had worn a flattering navy blouse and skirt
combination that clung to her slightly curvy figure. Usually she ate
sandwiches in the nearby park with a book or magazine for company.
    “ Since
it ’ s almost lunch time, why don ’ t
we leave now? ” Adam asked smoothly, standing and moving
toward her.
    “ Okay, ” Jemma replied, her fingers trembling slightly. She stood and walked
to her desk, putting down the dictation pad and pencil and grabbing
her purse. She commanded her heart to stop beating so quickly, or
else she was going to have a heart attack. Not once in the eighteen
months she had worked for Adam Sinclair had she thought he returned
her interest, despite the occasional glances he gave her. His eyes
held a sensual allure that sent shivers down her spine even while her
brain told her body not to be so ridiculous. Adam Sinclair could
have any woman he wanted. Why on earth would he desire her?
    “ A nd
he probably doesn ’ t, ” she muttered to herself.
    “ What
was that? ” The pulse-stirring growl
was close to her ear.
    Jemma started, not having
heard him sneak up on her. “ Nothing,
sir. ” Her throat was dry. She tried
to smile but didn ’ t think she
succeeded.
    “ If
you ’ re ready, we can go. ”
He stood so close to her that she could smell his scent; clean and
fresh with a hint of spice. She drew in a quick breath, and